


In Light Of Our Mistakes

by sunshinelollipops (pandapop)



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Candles, IDK Spookytober Challenge, M/M, Ryan Bergara Being an Idiot, Shane Madej Being an Idiot, and are mad at each other about it, candles again, eventually, it gets resolved, just cause., prompt, so a ghost helps them out, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-27 20:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandapop/pseuds/sunshinelollipops
Summary: “Well isn’t the universe just having the time of it’s endless life fucking us ove—“He stops midsentence, just as Ryan feels a sudden rush of warmth go through him, like somebody just ran past his body, tearing through his soul like he was a soft wall of gell-o. What follows is a cold chill, a silently swearing Shane that undoubtedly felt what just happened too, and then—The candle lights up, all on it’s own, illuminating the shock that quickly follows on both their faces.“You—“ Ryan chokes. “—y—you were saying?”He watches slow bob of Shane’s adam’s apple. “Did that—thing just… light up on it’s own?"The still flame flickers, as if in answer, and Ryan can confirm that yes, the universe is, indeed, fucking them over.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for the Flicker prompt over at the BFU writer's discord!

Ryan’s thinking about a lot of things. One of them, other than the location they are about to go off to, happens to be—‘ _shit_ , it’s really fucking _cold’_. He’s thinking about the weather, most definitely, as he looks out the window. What with it snowing and there’s a light blizzard going on outside and his fingers are actually so pink because he’s _freezing his fucking ass off_ despite him being inside the hotel and there’s a heater literally right next to him(broken, maybe, but still).

It’s just that Shane happens to be outside as well, and in plain view from the window. It’s a coincidence. That’s all it is. He’s not thinking about _him_ at all, or staring at him. Again, he’s looking at the snow. Besides, Mark and Devon’s there too so if he were actually staring at him then that’s just because he would be pointing out obvious things like “Wow that guy’s pretty tall” or “That guy’s wearing a lot less layers than the other two wow what a show off” or “Wow he’s talking to them and not to me because he’s a dick that leaves people hanging”.

But Ryan’s _not_ staring at them, hence why he’s not thinking that at all.

“You gonna keep moping in there? ‘Cause I need a hand.”

Ryan turns to TJ, who is sitting at the edge of his bed with all the cameras and equipment scattered messily across the sheets. He suddenly feels sorry for Mark, who’s shared a room with this guy for, what, 3 years now? Yikes. Ryan opens his mouth to point that out.

“I’m not moping.” Is what comes out, instead.

TJ gives him his famous blank stare, making him groan, “Why’d you have to bring all this stuff up here anyway? It’s not that hard to check all of that in the car.”

“It’s snowing outside, idiot. In case you were too distracted to notice.” TJ continues before Ryan could object, “And checking this stuff in the car would just ruin everything considering it all goes in the trunk, where it’ll all get easily exposed to the horrors of Mother Nature.”

“Mother Nature can’t get _inside_ the car,”

“Oh, you want all of these inside the car with us? For 2 hours?” TJ asks, gesturing to the things on his bed that would indeed make a very messy pile in the back, where Ryan will be sitting with Devon and Mark(preferably) because TJ’s driving. “No? Well then.”

“Alright alright. Geez.” Ryan relents, but he doesn’t move away from the window yet. “What do you need help with?”

“I kind of need you to come here for that.” TJ says. Ryan still doesn’t budge. “Dude, look, I’m trying to help you out here.”

“I thought it’s me helping you out.” Ryan walks away from the window finally, settling down next to TJ, who merely rolls his eyes. “What are you talking about? I don’t need help. What would I need help with?”

“Then start helping.” TJ shoves a camera to him, and then points at the empty suitcase on the floor. “Put ‘em in the bag. Arrange properly.”

“I know what to do.” Ryan grumbles, reaching over the bed to pick up a bunch of cords and his own GoPro. TJ hums, content with his cooperation, making Ryan roll his eyes too. It’s a good-natured, friendly atmosphere, and he hasn’t felt that with Shane in a while. Rooming with TJ turned out to be a good decision after all. It made the situation painfully obvious, yes, but at the moment it’s worth it. He’s just glad TJ’s comments on the matter stop just one step behind the edge of involvement—knowing he’s already breached something by acknowledging the awkward but not dwelling too much that he stays _out_ of the awkward.

Ryan catches TJ holding the spirit box at the corner of his eye and shakes his head. “We’re not using that today.”

TJ’s head immediately snaps in his direction, his face already screaming ‘what are you serious’ before it could come out of his mouth. Ryan stretches his own in a sheepish smile. “Yep.”

“No. Really?” He slowly lowers the box, usually blank face actually muddled with disbelief. “We’re not using…”

 _…our only credible source of content on this show?_ His face, once again, finishes for him. Or at least that’s what Ryan interprets. He _knows_ that’s what he’s thinking. As much of a Shaniac TJ is, Ryan never misses the pleased look on his face whenever the spirit box screeches out something relatively compelling.

(He ignores the uninvited vision of Shane rolling his eyes in his head because nope fuck that guy.)

“Yes. And for good reason. It fits with the episode and if it works—and it will, don’t look at me like that—I’m sure it’ll be a hell of a lot more compelling.”

TJ snorts. “It better be.” He gives the spirit box something of a last glance goodbye before walking over to Ryan, settling it down with the others. “Shane’s going to be so fucking happy…”

Ryan’s not looking at him but he knows TJ’s looking at him with that knowing look of his. He can _feel_ it.

“Yeah…he’s gonna.”

“You telling him?”

“Uh…”

When he says nothing for the next few seconds TJ finally sighs, making Ryan sag with relief. Acknowledges the awkward, then steps away. “Come on, let’s finish up. The others are probably waiting outside.”

“Maybe if they’re in here helping us out we would’ve been done by now.”

“Sure, go call them.”

“…”

“Thought so.”

They finish up putting and arranging the rest of the equipment in silence. As much as he hates himself for it, his eyes steal glances at the window from time to time, his chest tight. It’s going to boil over at some point, he knows that, and he shouldn’t be feeding into it too much, but he just couldn’t help it.

The stupidity of everything, of the situation, of _Shane_ —he’s just so _angry_ about it, about _him_ , because if he isn’t then he’d just be depressed otherwise.

Goddamn it.

“You can go out first.” Ryan tells TJ after everything’s all tucked away and they’ve got their own suitcases out, wrapped in their layers and ready to go. “I just…I need a minute. Alone.”

TJ just nods, but he doesn’t leave just yet. He looks at Ryan where he’s back to sitting on the edge of TJ’s bed, then opens his mouth to say something before rightfully closing it. “Don’t forget to check out.” He reminds, even though their check out time is already scheduled in a few minutes.

Ryan smiles anyway, grateful. “Yeah, alright.”

TJ gives him one last look before walking out the door. Ryan listens to his receding footsteps, feeling more and more alone as it fades out. Alone, maybe, but not lonely. At least that’s what he tells himself before he finally wills himself to stand up and walk back to the window.

He looks out and sees that they haven’t really moved from where they were a moment ago, still in front of the car and chattering away. TJ enters the scene not long after, mouthing what obviously looks like a complaint that probably has something to do with the luggage he’s carrying, which is slowly burying itself in the snow dominating the parking lot of the hotel. Shane reacts first with a laugh, long limbs striding across the blanket of snow like he’s walked through it his entire life and bending down to take the luggage from TJ’s hands.

They’re closer to the hotel, and the angle is weird so Ryan nearly misses it, but he sees the way TJ bobs his head whenever he says something important, and the way Shane’s eyes immediately look down at the luggage, giving Ryan a very probable guess. The look on Shane’s face morphs from surprise to confusion and then to happiness. He looks stupidly, undoubtedly elated, smiling down at TJ like it’s the best day of his life.

Is Ryan still mad at him? Yes. But if Ryan happens to be smiling in spite of himself, then nobody else needs to know.

 

***

 

Ryan’s got to admit—he’s a bit bummed out.

The car ride to the mansion was uneventful, even though the tension in the small space was so palpable Ryan could’ve choked on it. To his dismay, Shane sat with him and Mark at the back—the latter in between them of course. A wall. A contingent to keep the peace.

Still, Ryan expected at least some form acknowledgement from the other guy after what TJ told him, but of course Shane’s head is not just big—it’s really goddamn hard too.

Ryan’s trying to crack it, literally or not, either way maybe he’d be able to find some answers, hints, just about anything that could explain why Shane’s being so difficult.

Speaking of difficult—Shane exits the car like he’d been sitting on hot iron, one second before TJ could even properly park the car. Ryan looks at TJ, while him and everyone else that’s still in the car turn to look at Ryan. “What? He’s trying to get himself killed. Nothing new.”

_Rather get himself killed than stay in the same space as him._

Ryan gets out of the car after everyone else. The crew immediately gets to work, unloading the equipment and getting ready to take opening shots.

Shane’s looking up at the place, hands tucked inside the pockets of his coat and Ryan catches a glimpse of warm breath materializing from where he’s standing behind him. He does the same, tucking his hands in, because it’s still cold as balls, and looks up at the place. It’s strange, because the house isn’t as covered in snow as he’d expected it to be—as _anybody_ would expect it to be, it being a mansion in literally the middle of nowhere and shouldn’t be as neatly kept as it looks in the middle of winter. The roof, though broad and completely menacing, only has a thin layer of white at the top, and the windows look like they’ve been freshly wiped clean. Maybe it’s the real estate agent, as far as Ryan is aware of who actually is in charge of the place, but he’s having a hard time believing one person could keep this entire property from wilting over. It’s _huge_.

He catches Shane glancing at him in his periphery, so he turns away, back to him as he faces the car and the crew asking what he could help with.

There isn’t really anywhere to stay around the area that wouldn’t take them another 40 centuries to reach, so they all just hung outside by the car until the sun set, which wasn’t long. It’s winter after all. The days are short, the nights are long, and Ryan can still feel the long night ahead of him stretching endlessly by the second. The house isn’t helping. As with all the other (allegedly, shane would say)haunted places they’ve been to, the house manages to transform from _just a big scary house in the daylight_ to a _big scary house that’s now ten thousand times more threatening and is going to swallow you whole when darkness comes._

Ryan swallows, because not even his current predicament with a particular co-host could distract him from the fact that he might as well be endangered tonight. Especially when the same co-host is what keeps him sane most of the time. Right now he’s the complete opposite, and Ryan doesn’t think two insanes is gonna help him survive the night.

“Just get in already Bergara. Can’t keep those ghosts waiting,” Shane says to him, the first words he’s directed towards him since _the night_. They haven’t spoken on the flight, or the car rides, or even in the offices for weeks. Ryan’s almost believes that Shane sounds different, then one look at the guy next to him and yes, he is right. It’s different.

His Shane wouldn’t sound like someone forced into saying something when they’re talking, but that’s exactly what he’s going for at the moment. Even his face is over the top, eyebrows too high and mouth turned up a little more than usual. Not the chill, laid-back Shane he knows at all. Ryan hates it.

He plays it off with a smile anyway, voice coming out a little shaky, looking away from Shane and at the door, “What? So you’re saying all the ghosts are waiting lined up behind this door in spinning chairs and black fedoras? ‘We’ve been expecting you, ghoul boys.’”

“I said ghosts Ryan, not the men in black.”

“Or it could just be the mob?”

Shane snorts. “Right. Because ghosts are definitely scarier than human beings that can 100% murder us beyond reasonable doubt.”

Ryan could keep up the banter, say ghosts can murk them too, pretend like they’re okay like what Shane is trying to do for the camera, but he’s doesn’t. He’s both heartbroken and terrified and he just wants the night to be over. So instead of replying he opens the door, not caring about the cameras or the people behind the camera that have to witness this mess on full display, and on film.

The inside of the house, however, is enough to catch everyone’s attention.

Ryan flashes his flashlight over, surveying the space which is undoubtedly the living room. Seems like nobody bothered to cover anything up, like it was meant to be preserved. It’s a really huge and wide room, with antique furniture of all shapes and sizes arranged throughout the floor, trinkets and evidently aged knick knacks on every flat surface, all covered by layers of dust. Everything is so notoriously messy but somehow fit together perfectly, like a 50’s garage sale. For rich people. But that’s not what they’re all really stunned to see. He looks to Shane, then points his flashlight in the same direction Shane’s already pointing at—above them. There’s a large, crystal chandelier hanging off of the ceiling, and not an electrical one. An _actual_ chandelier that’s originally made to hold candles, the kind you’d expect to see in a ballroom of some sort.

“How old is this place?” Shane asks, genuine amazement in his voice.

“About a hundred years or so. I forgot the date but it’s in the files. Somewhere around the early 1900s, and nobody’s lived here since the original owner died.” Ryan mutters, caught up in a bit of a daze himself as he steps forward and looks around a little more, entranced by all the décor like they were ancient relics. Maybe they were. George Carmox was a wealthy man that loved to indulge in fancy little nothings, but there’s only one particular item that he obsessed over more than the rest. Ryan looks up at the chandelier again, almost forgetting the reason why he’s chosen this place for Supernatural’s season finale in the first place.

He swallows, hand tightening around his flashlight. He barely hears Shane asking something about the construction, feeling the beginnings of his usual frightened state by the cold sweat breaking out on his forehe—…wait a minute.

Ryan reluctantly wipes a hand at his forehead, surprised to actually feel a bit of sweat forming at the base of his hairline, and realizes that he…isn’t that cold anymore. He looks behind him, at the crew, at the still open door that should be inviting the cold ass temperature in, and blinks, because everything feels _warm_ , like he wasn’t convinced his own nose would eventually fall off of his face just a few moments ago.

Weird.

The perplexity must show on his face, because he can see Shane watching him with concern at the corner of his eye. Annoyance briefly flashes through the fear, as well as endearment, regrettably, when he faces to look back at him. He’s all red-faced and still bundled up in layers from aforementioned cold weather, and he’s wearing the same look on his face that he uses whenever Ryan freaks out. Ryan’s not even freaking out yet. Internally, maybe, but Shane doesn’t know that.

Or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t care. Ryan thinks bitterly. He certainly didn’t care when Ryan was clearly freaking out, when he watched him leave that night.

Ryan looks away, not realizing he just ignored whatever Shane asked about until it was too late to say anything. That’s gonna have to be out of the final cut, though Ryan has a feeling that won’t be the only one.

They move on with the night as normally as investigations go, which is to start off with Ryan’s short exposition. Which is not actually so short—but considering the situation he’s not so sure they’re going to last as long as they usually do. Exhibit A: Ryan stalling to talk by flipping through the files like he hasn’t memorized them already, and Exhibit B: Shane sitting as (not-so-subtly) far away from the other as possible on the far end of the couch.

“Alright, let’s get started. Shane, sit closer to Ryan, you’re out of frame.” TJ says, firmer than when he said it the first time. Ryan sighs and obliges, though it takes Shane a while before moving closer to Ryan, their thighs barely brushing. He waits for TJ’s signal and Ryan works through the intro as usual.

“Today we’re investigating the Carmox mansion, a fairly beautiful and eccentric place, but of which actually has a bit of unsettling history regarding it’s first and last owner, George Carmox. It doesn’t have a past as spiritually compelling as demon houses, but this place gives me the same vibe. Actually, it _could_ be considered a demon house,” he says to Shane, but couldn’t handle looking at him for more than two seconds. “—but, uh, it hasn’t really been confirmed whether the activities that took place in the house called for nothing more than a few possibly benevolent spirits.”

“I’m still having a hard time believing Carmox is an actual last name.” Ryan rolls his eyes, especially at how Shane sounds sincerely confused about it. “But I do agree, this place looks _fantastic_ so far. It’s old and dusty as hell. I love it.” He muses. “I gotta say Ryan, this feels like the destination of a time machine more than any haunted house we’ve ever been to.”

“You say that now, but,” Ryan looks at the side table next to the couch they’re in, and finds what he’s looking for—a small, tea light candle. He picks it up. “I bet you didn’t notice.”

“Notice what?”

Ryan holds it up, for both the camera and Shane to see. “That there are like a million of these around the room.”

Shane raises a brow and looks around. Now that they’ve set up a fair amount of lighting, brightening up the place a little, they can finally see the overwhelming amount of candles, all varying in distinctive types scattered all around the room. Ryan continues, “And this is during a time where electricity’s already founded, so it’s safe to say: this guy had a bit of an obsession.”

Shane gestures to the chandelier above them. “Explains that as well, I’m guessing?”

Ryan nods, looking at the camera. “He was a collector of sorts, a hoarder, one might say, but he just loved candles more than anything else. Relatives, his own daughter, and even the servants, would usually refer to Carmox as a kind and hardworking man. He started his own construction company when he was only 20, and had been steadily rising in wealth since then. He was of course well-known for his love of candles, and nobody really knew why. His daughter said he just found them to be ‘magical’ and ‘endearing’, just another item he makes a hobby of collecting, while everyone else suspected he was using them to communicate with various spirits and dabble in rituals. The former is true, but not in a ritualistic sense. His servants say that it’s more like how you light a candle in cemeteries to talk to your loved ones, though nobody really knows if he actually did anything beyond that. Anyway, regardless of these, it gave him quite the reputation to the point that candles were the go-to gifts for clients and business associates to keep him in touch.”

He pauses for a second, used to Shane popping in a comment at this point, but the taller man stays silent. Ryan looks at TJ, who just helplessly gestures for him to continue when Shane suddenly asks, “So he likes candles so much that he doesn’t use electricity in his own home and purposefully goes to other countries just to buy them for himself?”

He made it sound like it’s supposed to be a joke, but Ryan’s silence makes Shane guffaw. “No way!”

“He was a rich person who could do whatever he wanted.”

“I _know_ that Ryan, but come on! It’s _candles_ , I mean—“ Shane snatches the tea candle Ryan’s holding, who slightly flinches at the short moment of contact. “Look at this thing. Flower embedded. Where’d he get this, Hawaii?”

“Hawaii’s a state of America…”

“Not a 100 years ago it wasn’t.” Shane corrects. “I don’t get it. I mean of course I know there are like—a million other hardcore collectors out there in the world, I just don’t get them in general. How could you like something so much you’d do just about anything to get it?”

“Because he can? Carmox liked candles, and he went to other countries to buy them, _because he can_. Is that so weird?” Ryan questions. “So what if he bought that tiny candle in Hawaii? Doesn’t mean he couldn’t do whatever he wanted.”

“You’d know a lot about that wouldn’t you?” Shane asks, his eyes glinting, “Doing whatever’s convenient for you.”

It came out of nowhere so suddenly that Ryan almost didn’t know what to say, caught wide-eyed and speechless.

Then it dawns on him.

 _Now?_ Ryan holds back a scowl. _Are you fucking kidding me?_

He bites his lip to hold back a retort, and the atmosphere turns awkward and silent real quick. Devon clears her throat after a while, and Mark shifts uncomfortably behind the camera. TJ’s just looking between the both of them, unimpressed.

“Anyway, I still don’t get why this place is spooky.” Shane starts again, blasé, though Ryan’s close enough to him that he can hear him gritting his teeth. Much similar to him gritting his own. “So the guy liked candles, and people thought he did shady shit with them. Doesn’t mean the place is haunted.”

“Everyone thought the same way until what happened at his death.” Ryan slowly speaks, keeping his composure. “It was in 1924, and he was at his deathbed. Remember that this entire house did not use electricity? Only candles? Well, it was a silent and sad night, and his daughter had lit every candle he ever owned for him. Everybody was expecting it, because Carmox had been diagnosed with cancer just five months before. All his relatives came here so he can share his last moments together with everyone.” Ryan pauses, feeling the fear creep back into his head. “Well, what they didn’t expect that night was at exactly 7pm—every single candle in the house went out, including the chandelier, all at the same time. There was no wind, or storm, just about any plausible explanation that could’ve caused it. When Carmox’s daughter went to check on him immediately after, all she found was him laying down exactly where he was before, eyes closed, and no longer breathing.”

Ryan breathed in, imagining the scene. Just another relative talking to another, ready for mourning, talking, then just suddenly being blanketed by complete darkness, only to find out moments later that it’s finally _time_ to mourn. It sends a precarious wave of chills down his spine.

Shane must be imagining it too, because he’s silent as Ryan says, “Since then, the mansion has been completely abandoned. The daughter didn’t want anything to do with it anymore after what happened, but she didn’t put the place up for sale either. Everyone treated it like a memorial of some sort, hence why everything Cormax owned has been left untouched.”

“…and you’re sure that what happened actually happened?”

“Who am I to doubt the accounts of at least a hundred people that were present at the time?”

“About a hundred sad, mourning, devastated people possibly capable of harboring derangement and mass delusion.”

“Now you’re just being a dick.” Ryan says. He’s never said that sentence to Shane out of good-natured boundaries, but he guesses there’s a first for everything.

“So how exactly do you plan to prove this? Talk to the man in question?”

It was a silent question, one that translates to ‘We’re not using the spirit box, so what’s the point?’ Ryan gives him a tight smile, the most obviously fake one he could muster. “Glad you asked.” He grabs the bag he’d put beside the couch earlier, bringing out an eight-inch cylindrical candle. “We’re using this.”

Shane blinks, dumbfounded. “What.”

“Yep.” Ryan confirms. “It’s a taper candle, and apparently Cormax’s favorite. I was thinking we could talk to him through this. He was also known for having sensitive hearing, so I figured this way we wouldn’t scare him off with the spirit box.” _And I was also secretly hoping you’d thank me for it, but guess not._

“Anything would be scared off by that thing, ghost or not.” Shane rebuffs, but he looks pleased. Ryan clears his throat.

“Whatever.”

They stare each other down, both uncertain how to go forward from here. Ryan figured they could start going around the house now, and is about to say so as he puts the candle back in the bag when TJ suddenly groans and claps his hands. “Alright. Stop. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Me too.” Devon says before she puts her coat back on, deliberately walking out the front door, Mark following after.

Ryan and Shane both turn to TJ, confused. TJ looks at them like he wants to wring both their necks, and Ryan doesn’t blame him, but he has no idea what’s going on. They watch as he rubs a hand down his face, closing his eyes, then bringing up said hand to point a finger at both of them, each. “It’s the season finale, you idiots, and you’re not even _trying_. The fans want an episode, not a cheap twisted rendition of _Pride and Prejudice_.”

Ryan gets what he’s saying, up until the reference. He’s a little lost. Shane just points to himself. “Dibs on Mr. Darcy?”

TJ ignores him. “Whatever this—thing is, you two got going on?” He questions. “Fix it.” And that’s all he says before turning off the camera, then walking out himself.

The sound of the front door shutting resounds around the room.

None of them move for what feels like an eternity, at least to Ryan. His mind hasn’t exactly caught up with what just happened yet, eyes darting around the room but at Shane, not ready to face the reality of the situation.

Then Shane stands up, and starts walking. Not at the door, just somewhere, and it sends a jolt of panic through Ryan. “Where are you going?”

“…upstairs? Duh.” Shane says, rolling his eyes, already at the foot of the staircase at the far end of the room. Ryan stands up, bag slung over his shoulder and walks toward him. “I thought you said you wanted to talk to candle guy?”

“Not without the crew Shane, it’s for the episode.”

“We still have the GoPros. We’ll make it work.”

Ryan grabs Shane’s hand before he could climb the first step. “Come on, stop being ridiculous.” Shane turns to him, looking at him like _he’s_ being ridiculous. He probably is, but he’s scared for a myriad of reasons and he doesn’t know what else to do. “They’re right.” He swallows. “We should talk.”

Shane raises a brow. “Nothing to talk about, Ryan.”

Ryan shakes his head. “There’s everything to talk about, Shane.”

“Ryan.”

“Shane.”

“Let it go.” Shane demands quietly, like it physically pains him to say so. “Let me _go_.”

“I already did.” Ryan says, feeling the anger start bubbling up inside him. “You ran away, remember?”

“I didn’t run away.” He lies through his teeth. Ryan knows he is. “And even if I did, I had every right to.”

“Without an explanation?” Ryan huffs out a dry laugh. “A bit unfair of you don’t you think?”

Shane wrenches his hand back, walking up the stairs two steps at a time. “We’re not talking about this.”

Ryan runs after him, fuming. “See? You’re doing it again!”

“Shut up Ryan. You fucking hypocrite.”

“What the fuck are you talking ab—?!”

“I’m talking about—“ Shane cuts him off, abruptly turning around and going one step in front of Ryan, looming over him a few inches higher than usual, a finger to his chest. “—you. I’m talking about the fact that you’re practically saying it’s _my_ fault I chose to walk away, that I should be the one to blame that we’re like this now, when it was _you_ who initiated it. Hence, it was _your_ fault. Not mine. So fuck you, and sue me for ending what we both know would’ve just been a disaster that _you fucking started_.”

Ryan gapes at Shane, in complete disbelief. “Wow, way to twist things in your favor. _I’m_ sorry that _you’re_ just too fucking scare for c—”

“Right. Sorry my bad, you do you. Believe just whatever the fuck you want.”

Shane spits with so much venom that it actually stings. He turns around again, Ryan hot on his heels. “Shane—“

It happens quickly. Ryan’s been bracing a hand on the railing, sliding it up as he ran, when he hears a soft click and something tiny and rough scraping against his palm. He only catches a glimpse of what’s got to be the tiniest looking switch in the world, attached to the railing, when the steps slip from underneath their feet and suddenly disappears into the wall.

And then they’re falling.

 

***

 

“—yan?! Ryan! Where the fuck are you I swear to God if you die on me now I oughta—“

Ryan opens his eyes to nothing but black and the panic of Shane’s voice. “W-What? Hey? Where are we?”

“Hell.” Shane’s voice deadpans from somewhere to his right. Ryan sits up, looking in his general direction. “We just fell into a hole. That happened out of nowhere.”

Ryan remembers that part almost instantly.

“How long was I out?”

“You were _out_? That was literally just a minute ago!”

“I blacked out, alright? Geez, where the fuck are you?” Ryan blindly reaches out in front of him, briskly hitting something soft.

“Ow my nose!”

Ryan quickly retracts his hand. At least he knows Shane’s close by. “Sorry.”

“It’s—whatever, just—a flashlight. Your flashlight. You brought it with you didn’t you?”

“Uh, no.” He was too caught up in chasing Shane to do so.

“Fuck.” They’re silent for a moment. Ryan can practically hear Shane thinking, racking up his brain, meanwhile he’s way too out of it to rack up his. He’s still processing what exactly just happened, what the hell has been happening the entire night, up until the moment Shane turned his back to him for the second time.

“The candle!” Shane suddenly shouts, and it’s enough to sober up Ryan from whatever muddled up state he’s fallen into. “Ryan the candle—“

He immediately perks up at that. “Oh right! I did!” He feels around him, and miraculously he finds and feels the soft fabric of the bag, hastily fumbling to pull the candle out before pausing. “Shit…”

“What? What is it? Did you find it?”

Ryan holds up the candle in Shane’s direction. “I did, but.”

“But?!”

“…the matches are in the car.”

Shane’s quiet, then he’s groaning in frustration. Ryan has mixed feelings about hearing that sound without a face to accompany it with.

“Well isn’t the universe just having the time of it’s endless life fucking us ove—“

He stops midsentence, just as Ryan feels a sudden rush of warmth go through him, like somebody just ran past his body, tearing through his soul like he was a soft wall of gell-o. What follows is a cold chill, a silently swearing Shane that undoubtedly felt what just happened too, and then—

The candle lights up, all on it’s own, illuminating the shock that quickly follows on both their faces.

“You—“ Ryan chokes. “—y—you were saying?”

He watches slow bob of Shane’s adam’s apple. “Did that—thing just… light up on it’s own?”

The still flame flickers, as if in answer, and Ryan can confirm that yes, the universe is, indeed, fucking them over.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Ryan, jesus, take it slow man.”_

_“The night is yooooooung Madej!” Ryan slurs into the night sky, one arm reaching for the stars that aren’t there, the other slung around the taller man’s shoulders. Shane looks funny like this, height making him hunch so low just to get Ryan’s arm around his flushed neck. Ryan’s eyes travel to Shane’s face, at the struggle breaking out on his scrunched nose and crinkled eyes. It’s cute. Way too cute for him to handle right now. “You can’t—don’t be such a, you know! Old man.”_

_“I am an old man.”_

_“The night isn’t!” Ryan proclaims yet again, even when his actions are causing them to trip over their own feet, stumbling their way through the dim light of the late night L.A. streets. All the pretty colors. “Woaaaah, just look at it! So happy for me to grace it with my presence.”_

_Shane snorts, adjusting Ryan’s arm. “Right. So happy to see you puke your guts out in the bushes of every establishment.”_

_“Delighted, I tell ya.” Ryan harrumphs, sluggishly waving at an unsuspecting passerby. She waves back. What a lovely lady. “Speaking of which, I need a drink.”_

_Shane just shakes his head, a gesture Ryan would call fond the way he’d never allow himself to do sober. “Not if I can help it.”_

_Ryan gets Shane’s arm off him, willing his wobbly legs to keep him straight as he stands in front of him. “You gotta lighten up dude.”_

_“I already did. I have been lightening up. Now I’m going home. It’s 2:00.”_

_Ryan goes for a smirk, but it comes out as a goofy, sheepish smile that reaches up to both his ears. “Really? The night tells me otherwise,”_

_“The night is over Ryan. The only reason we’re still here is because I have to get your drunk ass home.”_

_“And how’s that going for ya?”_

_Shane’s eyes crinkle again, soft brown twinkling like pixie dust and happy endings. Woah, Ryan’s really drunk. “Honestly? You’re making it a bit difficult to do anything but that, at the moment.”_

_“Not me!” Ryan does another open circle gesture, more presentable now that both his arms are free. “The night, Shane. It’s young, and it’s something. Bound to change something in you. It’s_ already _changing you, don’t ya think?”_

_Shane stops. “The night?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“The_ night _?”_

_Ryan shrugs, walking ahead of him. “In this moment, what else could possibly change you?”_

_Shane just stands back for a while, and Ryan looks back at him to see him smiling. Shane then walks, finally catching up to him._

_“I could think of a few things.”_

 

***

 

“What are you doing?”

Ryan looks up from where he’s buried his chin in his knees—on the opposite side of the room, which they’d realize was a safe room judging from the crates of expired soup cans and beer barrels stocked by the side. That’s where Shane is sitting, a few feet away from where Ryan is sitting beside the candle. Even in this situation they’re trying to keep some distance but unfortunately, there’s not much space to avoid each other with. Ryan doesn’t really think avoiding each other in the first place would help very much in this situation, but Shane had moved away before he could say anything, so he stayed where he was tight-lipped.

It hasn’t been more than five minutes since what happened, but with Shane, silence of any form was slowly replacing eternity in Ryan’s vocabulary, so he had to put his attention somewhere.

The candle—Ryan didn’t want to think about. Granted he’s been sitting right in front of it, and maybe he’s noticed how the wax is just…dripping off of the candle holder, and how the fire is suspiciously still, but if he tried to know what that meant now it’d mean he’d have to talk to Shane about it, and talking to Shane was most definitely something he didn’t want to think about.

Until now, at least.

“Nothing.” He decides to answer, after a long deliberate list of possible answers he’s prepared last minute.

“Nothing? Ryan. We’re trapped here, and I’m kind of losing my mind over here trying to think of a way out, and you’re doing _nothing_?”

Ryan’s list has nothing to reply to that.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Something.”

Ryan looks up at him. It takes a moment, his eyes adjusting from staring at the flame so hard until he eventually sees Shane. Slouching and frowning Shane. The only Shane he’s been acquainted with lately. He’s taken off two of his layers, leaving him in nothing but his rumpled up grey shirt, the one with the corgi on it. They’ve taken off their GoPros as well, after finding out that they mysteriously turned themselves off(“Batteries, Ryan. It happens.”).

“You could try doing something, you know. Anything, like what Ryan _would_ be doing in this situation. Really, it’s freaking me out that _you’re_ not freaking about this. Especially after—“ Shane cuts himself off, clicking his fingers, then gestures vaguely to the candle. “—that.”

Ryan scoffs. “What? You mean after a ghost just lit up this candle out of nowhere and totally blew your skeptic ego out of the water?”

In typical Shane manner his brows immediately brunch together at the mention of ghosts, an interesting thing to see in the dark with nothing but orange hues lightly touching his cheeks and eyes. “Are you sure you didn’t light it up and this entire thing is just an elaborate prank for you to fuck with me?”

Ryan goes back to staring at the flame, talking quietly. “I’d never fake evidence.” He pauses, before adding, “And I’d never fuck with you either...”

“Right.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Really? Now?”

“I figured I’d rile you up a bit since you’re apparently way too out of it to do it yourself.” Shane says. “You’re just—You’re being way too calm about this, it’s creepy.”

“I’m anything but calm right now.” Ryan whispers defensively, keeping his eyes on the flame, chin buried back in his arms. To be honest he’s freaking himself out too, by not freaking out, but he just doesn’t feel it. He feels tired and his head aches a little, but besides that he pretty much just feels like he’s…floating. Existing. Thinking. “I’m thinking, alright? I…can’t—I’m not really capable of just—wrapping my head around this entire thing yet. If I scream it’d only get worse.” He reasons, running his mouth despite knowing Shane stays unconvinced. “I don’t have a single fucking clue what’s happening and…are you seeing this?”

“Seeing what?”

“The wax. It’s melting.”

“Wax tends to do that.”

“Just—it’s not—come on, get in here.” Shane hesitates before standing up to walk back over to him, a brow raised in question. Ryan points at the puddle of wax that’s dripping off of the candle holder. “Look at this.”

Shane seems nonplussed. “And?”

Ryan grunts in frustration. “It’s not hardening Shane. When the wax melts to the bottom it should be hard again, right?” Shane doesn’t say anything. “Come on man, you’re all I’ve got to work with here.”

“What do you want me to say Ryan?” Shane tries to sound annoyed, but the troubled look on his face is not fooling anyone. “Do you want me to say that this is supposed to mean something?”

Immediately after he asks, the flame flickers. Ryan’s eyes widen. “Woah.”

“What? What is it this time?”

“The fire moved.” Ryan breathes out, eyes circling the candle carefully. “It’s been still this entire time.”

Shane rolls his eyes and stands up, dusting himself off. “Right. Anyway, I’m gonna go over there and find us a way out. Join me if you feel like it.”

Ryan frowns up at him. “Come on Shane, I’m being serious.”

“Nope. That thing’s gonna burn out in a few hours, and playing with it wouldn’t be very serious don’t you think?”

Ryan feels strangely too tired to fight back. Instead he watches as Shane puts his hands on his hips, staring at the very high ceiling, which is not much to look at. He brackets his mouth, “TEEEEJ! DEVON! MAAAARK! WE’RE HERE!!”

Shane’s silent for a moment, then does an obnoxiously louder version of the bigfoot call for at least five seconds. Ryan wheezes, “Okay, seriously?”

“I am so very serious.” Shane agrees, panting on his knees. He sends a weak smile at Ryan before realizing it and quickly looking the other way. Well, that hurt. He clears his throat. “Unless you’ve got any better ideas.”

Ryan huffs. “I do.”

“Oh yeah? With what?”

He points at the candle. “This.”

Shane looks at him incredulously. “No, Ryan.”

“I’m onto something here.” He nods at the candle. “It lit up on it’s own—and I had nothing to do with it.”

“Yeah. Apparently it did.”

“It means something.”

“Really?” Shane muses. “Enlighten me then.”

Dramatic pause. “Ghosts.”

A snort. “ _Right_. Of course.” Shane says, unsurprised.

“I could use a little less sarcasm and a little more validation please.”

“What ye needs, but doesn’t deserve.”

“Beg to differ.” Ryan lets out a dry laugh. “You know it’s funny how the universe just threw evidence right in your face and all you respond with is—“ He follows with a mock grumpy face, a mock grumpy Shane face. " _Right. Of course_.”

“Is that supposed to be me?”

“I’d say yes, but you wouldn’t believe me.”

The dimness of everything didn’t hide Shane restraining himself from flipping Ryan off. So he does it for him, making Shane _un_ -restrain himself.

So, here they are, two grown men flipping each other off as they’re trapped underground with a haunted candle.

Ryan breaks off first. Shane just groans in frustration. “And what was that for?”

He gets nothing but a glare for a few seconds. “It’s just a fucking candle.”

“A ghost candle.”

“Just _candle_.” Shane says like he’s trying to reason with him, face making it very clear just how done he is with the situation. His expression matches his tousled hair and the bags under his eyes that matches Ryan’s own. “Stop staring at my face.”

Ryan averts his gaze to the ceiling. “I wasn’t. Why would I be?”

“Beats me, Ryan. Why would you?”

“I feel like this conversation’s going in _that_ direction—“

“Okay. Let’s shut up.”

“Shane.”

“We are _not_ talking about ghost candles, and we sure as hell aren’t talking about _that_. So let’s drop it. My apologies for ever bringing it up.”

Ryan takes a few seconds trying to think of a way to bring it up again before eventually giving up. “Okay, okay. Look, just—give me a question.”

“What?”

“Any question. Just one.”

“I don’t—We don’t have _time_ for this Ryan.”

“Yes, I agree, and this?” Ryan gestures to the still dripping puddle of wax. “I believe that _this_ proves that. Shane, I know you don’t believe that there’s anything supernatural about all of this, but you have to be open minded. There’s nothing else in this goddamn room that can open that—“ he points at the ceiling, “and really, this thing is all we have.”

“Uh, no. We have—uh, those!” Shane’s finger lands on the crates he’d been sitting on. “And I…can’t lift those.”

“And I can?” He can’t. His own body actually feels too heavy at the moment.

“What does it matter, okay? Two sets of arms are better than one!”

“And what are you planning to do? Stack them and climb on top of them?”

Shane blinks, like it should be obvious. “Yes?”

Ryan counts three crates in total, and he sends Shane a blank look. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but even your bigfoot relations aren’t gonna help with this situation.”

“You underestimate my abilities.”

“No, I estimate that it’d take three ladders your size to get up there, and those things stacked won’t even reach over _one_ of you.”

“At least I have a plan. Why are you trying to ruin it.”

“Because it’s obviously not gonna work.”

“Something has to! If not this then what? _What_ Ryan? If it hasn’t occurred to you yet we could _die_ here, and it’ll be all the more clear if that thing you’re so obsessed with is just gonna go kaput and we can no longer see anything. So really, I’d like to think that I’m thinking rationally here, looking at things that actually exist and trying to escape with what reality has to offer me. Not dicking around with ‘ghost candles’ like that’s even going to help us in the fucking first place.”

Shane’s throwing his hands in the air now. He’s talking like he’s trying his best not to shout, which isn’t really working. The space is small enough that a whisper would be loud enough to echo.

Ryan doesn’t understand why he would want to hold back anyway. He’s clearly mad. He’s been mad since forever. To hide the fact now is just making it seem like Shane’s tip-toeing around Ryan’s stupidity, like he’s a child, and he hates that.

“Fuck off.”

Shane looks at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Well you obviously think you’re the only one with a solution to everything.” Ryan doesn’t really feel angry. He actually doesn’t feel anything. But if Shane’s going to be like this then he might as well be. “So go ahead. Off with your big ol’ noggin. Escape this literal shithole.” _Escape me._ “Fuck off.”

“Now you’re just being—“

“Crazy?”

“A dick.” Shane finishes. “But I guess that works too. Yeah actually I’ll be over here, actually thinking, like a normal person.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too.”

They stare each other down again. It’s making his head ache even harder to hold Shane’s gaze with as much intensity as he could muster, so Ryan abruptly tears his gaze away from the other man, back to the candle.

It’s starting to frustrate him, all the fighting.

_I fucking miss you_. Ryan’s brain unhelpfully supplies.

“Alright then.”

His vision’s getting blurrier the more he eyeballs the flame like a hawk, but he’s got an asshole to prove wrong, so he tries harder anyway and focuses.

“George Cormax, or anybody… _anything_ ,” Ryan starts, seeing Shane perk up from his periphery, “are you in the room with us?”

The flame doesn’t react at first.

It takes a few seconds of Ryan imagining the smug smile that must be spreading across Shane’s face when the light finally moves. Flickering once, very lightly. Ryan feels a jolt of adrenaline rush through him.

He looks at Shane excitedly.

The man hasn’t moved from where he’s stood. Ryan can only see the white of his eyes as he rolls them to the back of his head. “It’s you. You’re breathing too close to it.”

Ryan blows at the flame, and to his satisfaction it doesn’t react. It stays where it is, still and immovable. “Proof enough?”

Shane stays silent, because it should be.

But of course: “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Ryan ignores him, getting on his knees and crouching closer to it. “Are you George Cormax?”

It doesn’t move. Shane sighs. “See? It’s just a coincidence—“

“Am I half Mexican?”

It flickers once.

“Do I live in L.A. California?”

“Ry—“ Ryan shushes him.

It flickers once. Shane gives him the look again. Ryan just stares at him for a second, then:

“Have I ever puked twice riding Space Mountain?”

It flickers twice. Ryan looks up at Shane.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ve never puked riding Space Mountain.” Ryan says, amazement lacing his voice. “Not even once. Oh my God Shane, I figured it out!”

Shane’s looking at the flame the way he’s been looking at Ryan just about twenty minutes ago: confusion laced with a heavy bout of contempt. “You just asked it a few questions, it flickers a few times, and now it suddenly holds all the secrets of the universe?”

Ryan grabs at Shane’s arm and yanks him down—“Ow!”—next to him. “You try then.”

“We don’t have time for this, like I’ve said earlier—“

“Just. One.” Ryan insists. “Don’t be scared.”

Shane swallows. “I’m not scared.”

“Is Shane scared?” It flickers once.

“Now see? Not true.” Shane lies. “I’m not scared.”

“How do you know? Have _you_ figured it out?” Shane glares at him.

“You know what? Yeah. I have. Conclusion is—“ Shane tries standing up again, but Ryan holds him down. Shane’s surprisingly strong today, Ryan felt the dizzy feeling again, trying to hold him down. “—this is fucking stupid. It’s a _candle_. Fire moving on a candle is normal. That’s all it is.”

“Is Shane white?” The light flickers once again.

Shane groans. “Ryan, are you even listening to me?”

The flame flickers twice, making one laugh and the other glare.

This is golden, and Ryan’s having the time of his (probably limited)life.

“Are tomatoes really fruits?”

“Ry—“

“Did aliens really build the pyramids?”

When it flickers twice Ryan catches Shane nearly breaking out in a smile.

“Are dolphins smarter than humans?”

“What kind of question is tha—“

“Are ghosts real?”

Flicker. And as excited as Ryan had been about this question, at this point it’s already totally obvious.

Still, Shane shakes his head, a small amused smile on his face he’s not doing a really good job of hiding, and Ryan pauses. Up close, like this, it reminds of him of the time he’d thought of how cute Shane was. He’s sober now, so something is most definitely wrong with him.

Still, he doesn’t look away.

“Okay now this is just—“

“Who killed Natalie Wood? Was it Wagner?” Ryan fumbles to ask, head whipping back to the fire. Dizzy. He’s dizzy. “No wait—uh—shit, what about um, is Unsolved Sports still top 10 on trending? Did Eugene steal my sandwich last week? Ugh—are…tacos…” fuck. “relevant…? Uh—“

Shane covers the flame before Ryan could see it. “Okay, I think it’s time to stop—“

“—is Shane in love with someone?”

Ryan freezes.

So does Shane.

The light doesn’t.

Shane might’ve covered it with his hand, but the fact that it’s literally the only thing lighting up the room, they wouldn’t miss it if it dimmed just a little.

They both don’t miss the room darkening momentarily at the candle flickering once.

_Fuck_. Ryan thinks. Screams. Agonizes. Dies.

“…stupid.”

_FUCK_.

“Shane—“

“ _Stupid_ ,” Shane repeats, still struggling to escape. His head is close enough that his hair’s constantly brushing up against Ryan’s nose and it tickles. “This is probably a dream. A really bad fucking dream. Or I’m dead? Maybe. I think. I died.”

“No, Shane I didn’t mean—“

“I died and now I’m stuck with you.” Shane whispers, and something inside _Ryan_ dies. “So stupid. _Stupid_.”

Ryan doesn’t know what possesses him. Maybe it’s his head aching—or his heart breaking, or his eyes just blurring all the goddamn time—so hard that he finally feels it. He feels _angry_.

“You see, _this_ is your problem.” Ryan finally lets him go, but the statement catches Shane off guard.

“What?”

 “You don’t hear me out.”

Shane’s eyes harden. “I don’t need to.”

“You never do, don’t you?”

He huffs, standing up. “This? Stupid too.”

Ryan yanks him down again, by the collar this time, bringing Shane much closer to him than before. “Stop calling it stupid.”

“Ryan—“

“ _You’re_ stupid.”

“I—!“

“No. _Listen_.” Ryan tightens his grip on Shane’s hand, eyes focusing on his. Or at least trying to. His head’s throbbing a bit too hard for that. “For once in your goddamn life just please, _listen_ to me. It happened okay? It _happened_ , and its still happening, and for the love of god it wasn’t just all in your goddamn head!” His hand tightens it’s grip, his heart in his throat as he speaks. “Jesus Christ, stop pretending like you know everything. You _don’t_ , and I’m sick of you looking at me like I’m supposed to regret _kissing_ you because—! …I don’t.“

Shane’s suddenly just staring at him, wide-eyed. “Ryan—“

“No. Shut up. Fuck you. Listen.” Shane’s hands are suddenly clutching his head and Ryan’s…crying? His face is wet. His vision’s blurry, and their hands are practically wrestling.

This is a mess.

“Fuck you, alright?” He continues anyway, “You can’t just keep shutting me out like this and expect me to—!“

“Ryan!”

“No Shane. I—!”

“Fuck, Ryan, listen to me! You’re _bleeding_!”

Ryan blinks.

“…what?”

“Have you been—this entire—holy shit. No, fuck. _Fuck_.” Shane’s cussing, and Ryan’s confused. Shane doesn’t look like Shane right now, and his face  feels wet. He brings a hand up to his cheek and looks at…okay, those are definitely not tears.

Ryan looks up at not-Shane’s face, the one that looks like a smudged orange painting with shiny yellow patches where Shane’s eyes should be and he has no idea what’s going on. “Ryan? Hey! Stay with m—“

“I’m… bleeding?” Ryan whispers, sleepy, the throbbing in his head slowing and then not. He looks at the flame. “Am I bleeding?”

It flickers once.

“Oh. Well shit.”

Not-Shane is making him duck, and even though blurry, Ryan can tell when somebody’s taking their shirt off. “What the—“

Suddenly there’s pressure where the pain centers on his head, making him cry out. A hand is clutching at his head again. “Fuck fuck fuck Ryan, stay still. Oh my God.”

“All this language—“

“Stay. Still.”

The not-Shane figure suddenly disappears in front of him, Ryan not moving and keeping the pressure on his head like he’d been ordered to do. He doesn’t know what to do, actually, listening to whatever Shane’s doing. He’s obviously not fine, but he hasn’t really noticed that up until now and he feels more confused than he should be. And sleepier…than he should probably be.

He’s really not fine at all.

“Uh, Shane, I think I’m gonna pass out—“

“Please don’t.” Shane says, back in front of him in an instant. He’s gripping Ryan’s hand and pushing it off. “For the love of God Ryan just—don’t.”

“I can _feel_ myself passing out.”

“You’re not. And you won’t.”

“I’m not saying I am it’s just that it feels like I might—OW WHAT THE _FUCK_!” Ryan cries out, head doused with what suspiciously smells like vodka. He hisses harder when Shane forces his hand back on the wound.

He cusses incoherently, trying to repress the pain. His face feels even wetter now, and that definitely woke him up. “It hurts it hurts it hurts—!”

“Deal with it.”

“I’m _trying_ —“

Ryan opens his eyes, realizing he’d closed them involuntarily, and is met with the look on Shane’s face that nearly makes him forget the pain altogether. He sees the wide eyes, the upturned brows, the heavy breathing.

Shane…Shane looks _terrified_.

“Hey… “

“Be quiet,” Shane says, his voice shaking. He’s put one of his sweatshirts back on, the other crumpled up in his free hand, bringing it up to wipe the vodka dripping off of Ryan’s face. And judging by the definitely not vodka colored tint sticking to the grey of Shane’s sweatshirt…something else as well. And apparently lots of it.

Ryan feels something churn in his stomach and looks away, focusing on Shane’s face. “Shane I—I didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He whispers. “Just don’t pass out.”

The tired feeling weighs on Ryan’s mind, as if reminding him that it’s still there. “But—“

“Please.” Shane begs. “Stay with me.”

Ryan stares at him, slouched down in front of him and on his knees.

He’s looking back at him, at the blood soaking up the cloth, like Ryan could disappear in an instant, and that’s just…

“…unfair.”

Shane’s hand pauses. “What?”

“You’re just—this—that is unfair.” Ryan says, pushing it away. “You keep talking shit about hypocrisy, and then you just go and tell me to stay with you? After _you_ didn’t?”

Shane slowly brings his hand down, mouth opening, then closing. He looks away. “This is clearly different.”

“No. No it isn’t. Tell me Shane, why can’t I just—“ Ryan points at the hand pressing on his wound “—make myself pass out right now and die and leave you? How would it be any different from what _you_ did?”

Shane breathes out through his nose. “If we’re being practical here nobody died—“

“I did.” Ryan cuts him off. “Watching you leave?” He brings a hand up to his chest. “Killed me.”

Shane doesn’t say anything, eyes wide but not looking at him, at the candle. One of his hands is still gripping Ryan’s head right on top of his. Ryan feels his grip tighten on his hand, as if Ryan would let go if he did. He wills his eyes to stay open, just to keep daring Shane to talk.

He doesn’t, and they stay like that for a while.

_We could stay like this forever—it’s not like we’re going anywhere._ Ryan thinks, staring at the length of Shane’s lashes, how the small, dim light barely hides the fragile look on his face. Ryan would be lying if he said he’d never seen it before when in fact, despite how angry he’d been about that night, it was all he could remember, above all the confusion and the sadness.

“You know…if we’re never talking about this how am I supposed to say sorry?”

Shane finally looks at him. _Time to go somewhere,_ Ryan decides. “Sorry for…?”

“Well, for kissing you.”

There it is. It’s out, and it’s acknowledged, and Ryan almost thought he’d never bring it up until they were both old and gray and still mad at each other, but here he is, bringing it up in a situation he’d least expected. Shane’s still looming over him even when they’re sitting down like this, but he’s never seen him look so small and surprised at the same time.

“Wow you just—“

“Went straight for it yep.” He says quickly, chuckling. Suddenly scared. Suddenly vulnerable. “How—well—you wouldn’t say it and—I hate this. I mean if we’re going to die here then might as well, right? We’ve got nowhere else to run and…it’s literally now or never, right?”

This is Ryan’s last resort. Shane could still choose to run, figuratively. He could choose to ignore him and what happened and what could happen like he’d already been doing, and there’s nothing Ryan could do about it.

_Don’t shut me out_. Ryan inwardly begs.

Pathetic.

He watches Shane think, before: “Why are you sorry?”

“…what do you mean? I mean you obviously didn’t want me too so—“

“No, Ryan, you kissed me because you wanted to, didn’t you?”

_…yes?_

Ryan cocks his head, which turned out to be a bad idea. “Ow—um…I’m confused Shane.”

“No shit, little guy. So am I.” Shane says in a dry laugh, and he goes silent for a second, just watching him. Thinking of what to say. “…honestly, really, how did you expect me to react Ryan?” He starts.

“Me…Shane Madej, the coworker. The best friend. The buddy the pal the cohort! I’ve been here all these years, beside you while you never—not even _once_ —showed interest in me. You’ve never even showed interest in men. You dated _women_ , Ryan. You used to text me every goddamn time you swiped someone right on tindr, and that’s not counting the time we were still interns. I was there, and I witnessed everything, or at least I thought I did because then suddenly you just go and do—kissed me. You kissed me. There, I fucking said it.” He says, hands flapping like they always do when he’s rambling. Ryan tries to focus. “You kissed me. It totally came out of nowhere to me and I—I mean, what was I supposed to think?”

“Why?” Ryan silently asks, “What _did_ you think?”

“That’s not—hey, don’t stop pressuring your head—““

“ _What_ Shane? What did you _think_?”

“Ryan, don’t you get it? You only kissed me because you wanted to—“

“No.” Ryan shakes his head in disbelief, ignoring the sting. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No I’m not fucking kidding you, Ryan. It’s the only reasonable explanation there is because as far as I know of there’s no way you could—“

“What?” He dares, and Shane visibly freezes. Ryan lowers his tone, gently asking, “I could what Shane…?”

“…love me.” Shane chokes out. “There’s no way you could love me.”

Ryan bursts out a laugh, and he knows why his cheeks are wet now for sure. “But I do. Fuck me, I do.”

Shane shakes his head solemnly. “No you don’t.”

“Hey, no. You don’t get to decide that.” Ryan scolds, free hand picking up Shane’s and holding it to his chest, where his heart is. “This does.”

Shane pulls his hand back. “No, I…”

“Don’t believe me?”

“…”

Ryan sighs. “Okay, I understand—no, don’t look at me like that. I do, and let me tell you this alright? I’m not gay. You’re right. I’ve never been gay. Hey candle, am I gay?” it fickers twice in response. “See? I’ve loved and been with women my entire life and I’ve never had it any other way.” Shane’s already looked away at this point, so Ryan continues, “Until you.”

That makes him look right back. “Me?” he says, more a doubtful tone than hopeful.

“Yes. You.” Ryan says, as sincerely as he could with his voice growing hoarse and his head a mess(the vodka probably seeped into his skull) and eyes still unable to focus in on one thing for five seconds. “You and your long ass limbs and your funny face and your stupid jokes—“

“Flattering so far.”

“—and just making me feel like I could never appreciate you more than I already do…no matter who you are or what you’ve ever been up until the moment I’ve met you.” He whispers. “You’re not just some guy or girl to me or friend or buddy or whatever—you’re Shane. You’re Shane and I, most definitely, kissed you just because I wanted to kiss you.” Ryan pauses. “Wait no, let me rephrase that. I kissed you, because I wanted to kiss _you_.”

Silence, then Ryan pretends to take his hand off his head, making Shane press on top of his firmer(“that still hurts you know”), and so he uses the opportunity to bring his other hand up to entrap it. Guaranteed, his position’s just getting weirder and weirder. But he doesn’t care, looking up at Shane hopefully. “Believe me.”

“…you know I get jealous easily right?”

Ryan laughs. “Okay?”

“And I get kind of clingy, as hard as some people seem to believe.”

“Okay.”

“And since you already know I’m a weird friend so I’m a weirder…partner, too, or whatever. A lot of people get fed up with me after a while.”

_Not me._ “Okay.” _Never me._

Shane swallows. “…I’m scared.”

Ryan nods. “I know.”

“I don’t know…I mean, we’re probably gonna die here anyway but even so…”

Ryan gestures to the candle. “Worth a try,”

Shane sighs, as if he forgot it was there for a second. “I still don’t understand how that is supposed to help.”

“I just thought maybe we just need to ask it the right questions.” Ryan postulates. “I mean if the ghost could light candles it could probably open doors too.”

“I…can’t take any word out of that sentence even the least bit seriously.”

“Worth a try, big guy.” Ryan repeats, smiling at the return of the nickname flowing freely past his tongue. “Any question, if you still have doubts…”

Shane contemplates for a while, and as he does, Ryan leans his head a little firmer against their hands still on his head, and thinks that actually, he doesn’t mind if they could stay like this forever.

That is until Shane speaks, “Nah.”

“Hm?”

“I have doubts, sure. But I love you.” He says, and smiles, just like the way he did that night. “And there’s no question about that.”

Ryan stares in shock for a bit, a sleepy grin slowly climbing up his cheeks. “You cheesy motherfucker.”

“Hypocrisy strikes again.”

“…just kiss me already.”

Shane doesn’t, so Ryan sighs and closes his eyes. As soon as he did it must’ve signaled the rest of his body to shut off as well, because he finally feels the fatigue wash over him, the dam he’s been holding off from breaking.

He feels a soft, gentle pressure of chapped lips on his not a minute later, and he smiles into it.

When it pulls away after a while he faintly asks “Is my head still bleeding…?”, and after the pressure’s gone from his head and he’s carefully lowered against a warm chest, he hears a silent “Nope”, and sighs in relief. The light of the candle glows orange past his eyelids. When it disappears a few seconds later, Ryan nearly thinks he’s already fallen asleep.

Not a long while after, he hears a whooshing sound, and a loud rumbling scrap of rough wood against wood above them. A quiet “I can’t believe that actually worked,” is transmitted through Shane’s chest, and it’s the last thing Ryan remembers before sleep finally consumes him.

 

***

 

He wakes up with his head in Shane’s lap back at the car.

Which is weird. He was pretty certain they were wasting away in a safe room somewhere with a ghost candle just a few moments ago, but apparently not. The confusion must’ve been clear on his face as soon as he opened his eyes, because Shane immediately notices and says, “Your stupid plan worked.”

Ryan takes a moment to process that they’re the only ones in the car, and that its cold again, before finally looking up at Shane. “Woah.” He whispers. “The others?”

“Still inside. They’re keeping warm.”

Ryan frowns. “So why are we…?”

“Your head.” Shane says, his hand brushing through Ryan’s hair. “It’s still really fucking dusty back there.”

“How’d they get us out?”

“TJ found a ladder in the master bedroom, which was, as you’ve said, three times my size.”

“…you carried me up?”

“There were a few cords tied here and there but you know—just go back to sleep, Ryan.”

Ryan tries to replay the events of the night, but finds that the only thing that matters to him right now is that Shane is talking to him again, and playing with his hair, and quite possibly his…boyfriend? Now? Maybe. He has a feeling they’ll talk about that later.

He sighs, resting an arm on his face. So…it’s over, and to think he’d been willing about it too. He’d been willing to end it, just like that. With Shane.

Well.

“The episode’s a bust huh…”

“…yeah, well, we sabotaged everything we’ve actually filmed.”

“Yeah…”

Shane pushes Ryan’s arm off his face. “Don’t worry about it. We almost died today.” The dawn of realization hits not soon after. “Oh, shit. The internet would’ve loved that.”

“You make it sound morbid.”

“Because it is. We promised good end of ghoul boys content with blood and  guts and everything!”

“Violence was not involved, so shush.” Ryan yawns. “Imma sleep now.”

“You do that. I’m just gonna be creepy now and watch you sleep.”

“Not complaining.”

“Weirdo.”

He missed this. It almost feels too unreal. “You didn’t even want to be in the same space as me like, a trapped room and a ghost candle ago.”

“So that’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Has a better ring than ‘the night we almost died’.”

“Technically, we weren’t dying.”

“I was.”

“Right. Anyway. I don’t think we’re talking about this as seriously as we should be. So.” He resumes his ministrations with Ryan’s head. He leans into it. “Sleep.”

“What happened to the candle?”

Shane leans back against the backseat, breathing out. “Added it to Cormax’s collection.”

“…why?”

“You said they were his favorite. By the way, didn’t you realize that taper candles are basically lovers’ candles?” Ryan shakes his head, nuzzling his nose against Shane’s stomach, his own fluttering at the mention of the word lover. “Anyway…just thought he’d like to keep it. It could be like, a thank you gift. From the both of us.”

“…well, we were a mess.”

Shane nods. “That we were. He deserved it.”

“Yeah…”

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“I never did say sorry for leaving you.”

Ryan brings his hand up to find Shane’s, tangling it with his. “It’s okay...” He breathes out, feeling peaceful. Feeling safe. “…it’s alright now.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

“And…this is happening?”

Ryan yawns again. “Yep.”

“You know TJ actually trapped us here to make sure this _will_ be happening so I need full commitment on this or else our lives are at stake yet _again_ —“

“Shane. I love you. Shut up.”

Shane adjusts Ryan in his lap, closing his own eyes, and laughs. “…the night’s changed you, Bergara.”

He squeezes Shane’s hand, smiling.

“Still far from over, Madej.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hOOkay it's done. Hooray? I actually finished something...so that's pretty cool.  
> And that's it for the flicker prompt. I don't think I've done it much justice but oh well, hope some of you guys liked it!
> 
> Thank you, whoever's reading this, for reading this. :D Have a lovely day!

**Author's Note:**

> i made George up, just fyi. all fictional smictional.  
> kudos and comments are nice! if you feel like it.  
> thank you for reading :D


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